Don Farrell (SA, Australian Labor Party, Parliamentary Secretary for Sustainability and Urban Water) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

On Tuesday morning this week the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition took part in a wreath-laying ceremony at the War Memorial. Seeing them pay respects at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier on behalf of the parliament, I decided to continue tonight with the series of speeches I intend to make in recognition of the Centenary of World War I, which will begin next year. The first of these speeches, which I delivered in March last year, covered the voyage to England of my grandfather, Sergeant Edward Farrell, and his posting to a training camp in sight of Stonehenge, on England's Salisbury Plain. It was in this camp that Edward had his first taste of the war. He wrote back to his fiancee, Emily—soon to become my grandmother—in Adelaide:

A batch of German prisoners has marched in, and they're now quartered about 100 yards from our hut. They are objects of great fascination to all the soldiers. They're pretty harmless though. Not much of any interest to describe about them. Some speak English pretty well. Grey uniforms, and lots of regiments represented, including the Prussian Guards.

By this time the Battle of Fromelles was in its final stages. This was followed by the Battle of Pozieres. Australia suffered more losses in the combined Fromelles and Pozieres operation over six weeks than in the eight months of the Gallipoli campaign. As the official war correspondent, Charles Bean noted Pozieres 'is more densely sown with the Australian sacrifice than any other place on earth.' Pozieres cost the AIF 23,000 casualties in 42 days, including 6,800 dead. Indeed, Fromelles was Australia's first major engagement on the Western Front, and has been described as the worst 24 hours in Australia's military history.

Edward, however, was still in England and visiting London on leave days. In early September 1916 he wrote:

We have been to the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's, and saw all the old historical things in these places. The Tower was the most gruesome, and I saw where the two princes were murdered, Sir Walter Raleigh's cell, Henry VIII's suit of armour, and the Crown Jewels which are no doubt a wonderful collection. In St Paul's the most interesting items were the tombs of Nelson and the Duke of Wellington.

Edward also described the German Zeppelin raids:

We missed a beauty by only two nights, but on the Tuesday there was something in the air as the anti aircraft guns started at 1:30am. Frightened the life out of me. Hopped out of bed, but of course, I couldn't see anything, and the guns didn't last long.

By 9 October Edward was stationed in London, where he worked as an accountant in the audit and finance section of the Australian Army headquarters. He wrote to Em about his accommodation in Gloucester Road, South Belgrave:

I've got a nice little room all to myself—a corner on the second floor with three French windows opening out to a stone balcony. They've got shutters on them and it's such a nuisance as you can strike a light in the night without noticing that the shutters are up—Zeppelin precautions.

Edward managed to attend the theatre, visit the ANZAC Club, the Royal Albert Hall, the London Palladium and pubs including the Charing Cross Hotel and Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. He saw Buckingham Palace, attended mass in Westminster Cathedral, and visited Hyde Park and the Serpentine. A letter home about a munitions factory explosion illustrates how close the reality of war was at any time:

Terrible isn't the word for it. The scene is about 10 or 12 miles from here but it shook us pretty considerably and even broke windows further away than we are. Whole streets have been blown to pieces. The papers first gave the deaths at 30 to 40 and then another 20 bodies were recovered—but if that total was multiplied by 10 it would be getting somewhere near the mark. The flames could be seen for 30 miles.

Parcels from home were always a treat and on 4 February 1917, he wrote to Em:

Your nice parcel has arrived and I loved the socks and tobacco!

Well-wishers in Australia also sent parcels to the Australian Imperial Forces headquarters, from where they were sent on to the troops. Edward told Em:

Last week I got a little Christmas parcel consisting of some chocolates and lollies, a pipe, tobacco, soap and toothbrush powder—plus one or two other little things. A note accompanying it wished me well, and asked me—as the 'recipient'—to write back to a woman in Brisbane called Vera.

The weather was also a regular topic of correspondence. He says:

It has been bitterly cold and blowing like anything all day. One night there was a very heavy snowstorm that kept up till dinnertime on Friday, by which time there was over a foot of snow on the ground and some places much deeper. It was dangerous, too, as drains two and three feet deep were covered right over. Of course muggins here had to walk into one.

By 5 March, back in military camp and training for France, Edward reported this to Em. He says:

I said goodbye to Piccadilly and farewelled Leicester Square as I made for Waterloo Station. I was sorry in some ways to leave London as I had made a few happy acquaintances while there, but the whole thing became intolerable and only for the cold weather I would not have stayed as long as I did.

On 25 March Edward was stationed with a training battalion in Hurcott, and shortly after the soldiers marched for several days to Bulford to be inspected by the King. Edward described the occasion in a letter home to Em. He says:

The King rode a fine charger and as he neared us over 30,000 troops came to 'the present arms' position, making what must have been an historic picture. After His Majesty had ridden along the lines—and it took sometime—we all performed a march past, two platoons at a time. Just as I passed him he turned to speak to Prince Arthur of Connaught and I'm not sure whether he saw me or not. After that we had dinner—a little bread and less cheese and presently the King went past slowly in his motorcar, accompanied by loud cheering by all the troops.

On 6 April America entered hostilities by declaring war on Germany, and on 10 April the battle of Bullecourt started. This battle resulted in Australia suffering almost 3,500 casualties. The second battle of Bullecourt began on 3 May, again with heavy Australian casualties, and was followed on 7 June by the battle of Messines.

By late July, Edward was in Le Havre, France, and described the journey from Hurcott in a letter to Em. He says:

About 5:30 in the morning they bunged several thousand of us on aboard the HMS Viper and at 7:30 several of these big transports pushed off accompanied by destroyers and submarines.

If we weren't packed like sardines I could have said it was beautiful gliding down past Southampton, Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. Didn't go very far though before they started all sorts of tick tacking and doubling—dodging mine chains and one thing and another.

We came alongside the pier at Le Havre about 2 am. At 3 am we were issued with rations for the day, and between 7 and 8 am we disembarked. Our lot, however, had to do the cleaning up of the boat and it was 10 o'clock before we set off on the 7 mile or so march to camp—uphill and in full gear.

I wasn't very much taken with Havre. It's a pretty big town and port, though, and I suppose we went through the worst part of it out past Greville towards Montevilliers.

This speech has covered my grandfather's time in training in England and his arrival in France. The next episode of my serialised speech will see my grandfather Edward in action—being injured, and subsequently repatriated to England.